


i wanna hold your hand

by judlane



Series: neil is sappy [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff, M/M, alcohol use, hand holding, oooohhh neil gets druuuunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9451709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judlane/pseuds/judlane
Summary: “And your arms. They’re big. And I like your shoulders and neck.” At that Andrew rolled his eyes and Neil hid a smile in his pillow. “I also like your hands.”Neil gets drunk and sappy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> basically neil gets #turnt and is so gay  
> sorry for run on sentences and spelling mistakes whoops

Neil is drunk.

Or at least that’s what the buzzing in the back of his skull and loose arms seemed to tell him. His body felt heavy, almost like his limbs were literally going to melt off the hard chair he was sitting in beside Andrew. Lights were flashing overhead and Nicky was leaning a little too far to the left and laughing a little too hard, and if Neil was sober, he would’ve just spared him a glance before going back to staring at Andrew. But he was _loose_ and _tingly_ and his face felt _good_ when he smiled so he did.

“Oh, fuck, Neil’s smiling!” Nicky wobbled the table with his enthusiastic cheer.

Neil laughed, loud and clear and wanted so badly to lean against Andrew’s broad shoulders but he needed permission which he wasn’t going to get because he was obviously drunk. But Andrew did slide an impassive glance over to him and flicked his eyes to the half-empty glass in front of Neil. An unspoken question swam in his emotionless eyes and Neil couldn’t help but smile wider. Andrew had such nice eyes.

“I want some more,” Neil said, words only a little slurred. He had to push down the smugness when he deftly tossed back the rest of his hard liquor to Nicky’s crowing.

Andrew reached over and plucked the now-empty glass from Neil’s hands and stood up. Neil felt a little dizzy when he leaned back to maintain eye contact with him. Something like hot affection curled in the base of ribs, expanding slowly into his belly.

“When you wake up with a killer headache, don’t think you can come complain to me,” was all Andrew said before he disappeared in search of the bar.

The sound of someone imitating a whip caught Neil’s attention. Nicky was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and pointedly winked after where Andrew had disappeared. If Neil was sober he would’ve maybe flushed, rolled his eyes, or ignored Nicky’s actions, but he found himself laughing instead. The burn of alcohol unfurled in his chest and if he had thought he was loose before, he definitely was now. He had to prop his head up on the table to keep it from lolling to one side.

Kevin and Aaron had long since been gone, somewhere lost in the crowd of writhing bodies and flashing lights. Neil couldn’t even think about how impossible it’d be to stand up, least of all dance.

“Nicky, why aren’t you dancing?” Neil found himself asking, voice sounding distant to his own ears.

“I can dance anytime I want!” As if to prove a point, Nicky leaped from the chair, jostling the glasses before doing a little jig that had Neil laughing belly-deep. He imagined his cheeks were aching by now but all he could feel was a warm tingling flush over his skin. “But Neil Josten, number ten on the Foxes, starting striker, _drunk_? That’s not something you see everyday! I’m trying to make the most of it I can!” Nicky plopped down into his seat and imitated Neil’s position across the table.

A filled glass of dark liquid cut Neil’s response off as it was practically shoved into his face. Neil had to wrap both his hands around it to maintain a good enough grip before he could set it down. A second, much taller glass of water was placed next to it. Andrew reclined in his seat, staring hard into the middle distance and obviously ignoring Neil’s doting looks.

Nicky mimed a whip again and squeaked when Andrew shot him a cold glare.

“I’ll take that as my cue! Bye Neil!” And Nicky was gone and it was just Neil and Andrew.

Neil slowly took a sip of the alcohol, the burn pleasant on the back of his throat. When he had first started drinking, he had to force himself to keep going, pushing back memories of his mom and gaping wounds and cold bathroom floors. But after his fourth or fifth sip the hard bite was softened as a buzzing feeling overwhelmed Neil and then altogether it was gone. Now when he drank it was a good kind of burn that had him smiling wide and openly studying Andrew. Andrew, who was looking everywhere but Neil.

The sharp lights seemed to accentuate Andrew’s broad form, all thick biceps and wide neck and strong chest. His eyes glowed an almost gold in the dimness and his hair looked impossibly soft despite the gathering sweat at his temples. Neil wanted to lean over and kiss it away, or maybe wait until it dripped down Andrew’s neck then take his chance, but he had to steel himself against the urges. He needed permission.

But Neil wasn’t as strong as he thought he was, much lesser now that he was practically swaying in his seat to a distant beat and the alcohol tasted like water every time he drank.

“I like your eyes,” Neil said.

Andrew cut him a glance, jaw minutely working.

“Shut the fuck up and drink some water.”

Neil obediently set his liquor down and picked up the cool glass of water and took three large gulps to appease Andrew. He set it down and turned to fully face him, hands pinned beneath his knees so he didn’t accidentally reach out or something.

“They look gold right now.”

Andrew released a breath low that bordered a growl. “Shut the fuck up,” he snapped in Russian.

Neil grinned, wanting so fucking badly to just lean across the small space between them and _just lay his head down on Andrew’s shoulder._ His vision was swimming a lot more now and the water was making him feel a little queasy, but the affection that clouded his chest was much more prominent than any discomforts Neil had.

“Can I hold your hand?” Neil asked softly, not missing the slightest hitch in Andrew’s chest.

In a fluid motion that left Neil reeling, Andrew stood up. His face was completely blank. “We’re leaving. Drink the rest of the water.” He turned on his heel and strode off before Neil could open his mouth. Something like cold dejection pressed down on his shoulders and slowly he drank.

Suddenly being drunk didn’t seem like fun anymore.

Andrew came back with the others in tow, all in different levels of dishevelment and faces pinched in disgruntlement. Neil sucked down the rest of the water and tried to stand, but the room swam sharply and tilted hard to one side. He stumbled, scrabbling on the back of his chair to maintain some sense of balance. Andrew was suddenly right there, hand like a brand around Neil’s bicep.

“Idiot,” was all he said before he began to practically herd Neil to the door. Somewhere a few feet behind him, Neil head the telltale sign of Nicky doing that whip cracking sound again and Aaron’s grunt of disgust.

The trip to the car was somewhat of a blur, and by the time Neil blinked again, he was strapped in securely in the passenger side of the Maserati and they were pulling up in front of the Columbia house.

Groggily, Neil stretched, body still lax and buzzing. Andrew reached over the middle console and undid Neil’s seat belt.

“I swear to God, Nicky, if you make that sound one more fucking time,” Aaron was snapping as they piled out of the car, shoving a giggling Nicky ahead of him. Then they were both snorting when Kevin stumbled up the front steps who turned back to snap something that just made them laugh harder.

It took a moment for Neil to realize that it was just Andrew and him left in the car. The night pressed in from all sides, a soft blanket that cooled Neil’s buzzing skin.

Andrew turned the key in the ignition until the lights on the dashboard illuminated but the engine stayed dead. Soft music played quietly from the speakers that had Neil slowly rocking his knee to the beat. He wasn’t very fond of music, or really had an opinion on it, but he felt like he needed to do something with his body.

The flicker of a lighter caught Neil’s attention as Andrew took a hard drag of his cigarette. Neil hadn’t even noticed he had rolled down his window.

They sat in mutual silence, only broken by the radio, as Andrew finished two cigarettes. Neil watched him the entire time, mesmerized by his loose grip on the stick and how his knuckles curled when he flicked the lighter and how his cheeks hollowed just the slightest when he inhaled. How the smoke coiled slowly out of his mouth like it was attempting to cling to him as long as it could. How the cherry tip seemed to draw patterns in the darkness as Andrew brought it to his mouth, away again, out the window to ash it, and then back to his mouth. The hard smell of nicotine lulled Neil until he was liquid on the leather seat.

Andrew tossed the butt of the cigarette out the window. “You better not be asleep. I’m not carrying you into the house and you’re not sleeping in my car since you’re probably going to throwing up your guts in the morning.”

“M’not,” Neil grumbled, nuzzling against the cold leather. The softest of touches above his brow had him stilling.

“Then get up and come on.” The car died as Andrew pulled the keys out.

Neil followed Andrew out of the car, only stumbling once, and into the house. It was quiet except for Nicky’s loud snoring and the floorboards creaking beneath them. Neil followed Andrew up to his room, keeping a hand along the wall for balance.

The alcohol had mostly subdued him to a slightly dizzy mess, body still humming but in a tired way. As Andrew went into the bathroom Neil collapsed on the bed, pulling off his shoes and socks before scooting farther up onto the soft mattress. He let his eyes shut close until the light flickered off and a weight pressed down beside him.

He shuffled over onto his side so he could stare at Andrew as he tugged the blankets over both of their bodies.

“I really do mean it. I like your eyes.”

Andrew sighed, exasperated, but didn’t say anything else. Neil took that as a sign to keep going.

“And your arms. They’re big. And I like your shoulders and neck.” At that Andrew rolled his eyes and Neil hid a smile in his pillow. “I also like your hands.”

Andrew eyed him for a moment, searching for something, before he pulled his curled arm from beneath his pillow and held it out for Neil in silent permission. Without missing a beat, Neil caught it between his own and tucked it against his scarred cheek. He pressed a soft kiss to the calloused palm and let his eyes flutter shut when Andrew’s fingers brushed against his temple.

“You’re fucking sappy when you’re drunk.” But Andrew didn’t retract his hand and his fingers kept caressing. Neil turned his face so Andrew could feel his smile.

“I really like you,” Neil whispered.

“Shut up,” Andrew said without any real heat.

Neil slid his hand over the back of Andrew’s and allotted their fingers together. He nosed the soft skin between Andrew’s thumb and pointer finger. “Okay.”

Neil let his eyes slip close and be lulled to sleep by Andrew’s warm hand against his face and the fingers that softly traced the knife marks down his cheek.

 ------- 

 

When Neil awoke the next morning, Andrew was gone and Neil felt like he had been dragged behind a horse for a good portion of the night. He groaned and pressed his face hard against the pillow, trying to block out the light. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, he would suffocate.

“Good, you’re awake. Get up, we’re going to get breakfast.” That was Andrew standing up above him.

“Can’t. I’m dying.” Neil grit out.

“Of course a hangover constituents as death in your book. Why did I think anything less of you.” Andrew deadpanned and Neil let out a small laugh at that.

It was quiet for a few moments before Andrew sighed.

“If you get up and take some medicine, I’ll let you hold my hand.”

Neil rolled out of the bed so fast he nearly retched on the floor in his dizziness.

“Fucking junkie,” Andrew snapped, but not before he pressed some painkillers into Neil’s palm and cupped his cheek with the other.

Neil held that hand the entire time at breakfast under the table. Andrew nearly broke Nicky’s shin with a kick when he lifted his hand to crack his metaphorical whip and Neil laughed.

The hand wrapped around his squeezed just the slightest and everything was fine.

**Author's Note:**

> catch ur boy on [tumblr](http://sevenyearsdead.tumblr.com/)


End file.
